Forgotten Eden
by MistressFi
Summary: Naoko Takahashi is Misa Misa's best friend, and has been for years. They were inseparable until one day when Misa dropped off the face of the planet and Naoko chased after her.
1. Prologue

Summary: Naoko Takahashi is Misa Misa's best friend, and has been for years. They were inseparable until one day when Misa dropped off the face of the planet and Naoko chased after her.

**Rating**: T (some chapters _will_ be rated M)  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Follows the canon. (Not that you can't read into it.) But OC isn't to end up with anyone.  
><strong>Warning<strong>: Moments of foul language, frequent mentioning of sex, scenes of violence, description of eating disorders, possibly disturbing subtext.

This story uses the events and dates in the manga.

**Disclaimer:** Death Note belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. Naoko is a character of my own invention, however not my SI or my mouthpiece, so the views and opinions expressed by her (or any of the characters) are not necessarily my own. Furthermore, I am not promoting/slandering any brand names mentioned in this fanfiction. **  
><strong>

**A.N** – This is a bit of an experiment with writing style, characters and plot, and I'm curious to see how it goes, therefore your feedback is really appreciated. Criticism is loved, really.

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><p><strong>Forgotten Eden<strong>

Thundering applause lit the room and everyone cheered as the billboard was unmasked and my enlarged powdered face appeared in Times Square, looking glorious and kissing a perfume bottle.

Bang! The stereo began to sing. Pop! Champagne in all the glasses. Hugs from all the girls, handshakes from the lads with a kiss on the side. My glass was refilled once more, and I took a small swig, winking at a sneaky camera as I did. Models, managers, dancers and actors had come to this party, whenever they knew it was in celebration of my latest photo shoot success was unknown, and really didn't matter. You couldn't see the walls for the bodies, ladies in sparkling dresses and men in their tuxedos, or stylistic variations of, swaying to the beat of robotic music and making conversation to their own little cliques. My manager caught me on the makeshift dance floor, offering me more congratulations in a slurped manner, telling me how much she would miss me for the next few months, but would I really not reconsider?

No. I shook my head with a sad smile, so she sighed dejectedly and went to speak to my replacement. Tomorrow, in less than twenty hour hours, I would be catching a flight, twelve hours journey, to Tokyo to be reunited with my best friend, who I had not seen in nearly four months, only spoken to via emails. _Sisters_, people said; _it couldn't be helped_.

Several well pressed servers carried silver platters of finger food: cold ham on salad crackers, crab claws, liver parfait, but also carrot, cucumber and pepper slices of which I was to take pickings of. Remembering my promise to my flat mate, I grabbed a dish of prosciutto from one, took my friend from the fold of her dress and pulled her over to a particular designer she had her eye on. No time like a party to make a business contract. I offered him and his company some food, complimented his outfit, introduced my friend and lingered long enough to make sure she didn't blow it.

Thankfully she didn't and I could move on, popping a chilled grape – it's just a grape, no biggie- into my mouth as I navigated the crowds as well as one can in three inch heels. A kind server took the tray from my tiring hands with a rather nice 'thank you, madam'. I was fairly cheerful this evening, in spite of all these vague faces in my current home dropping crumbs on the carpet. But the small talk! I could scoff. Yet, would you expect anything different? Talk about celebrities and their immoral affairs, talk about setting styles and trends, talk about business associates, and sometimes talk of Kira, complete all their speculations and fear mongering. _Did you hear they suspect there is a second Kira? _Yes, I heard, it's all anyone talks about. There was an earthquake in Bachu and bushfires in Canberra but all anyone really worried about was a mysterious killer. _But it's so spooky and supernatural!_ I don't believe in that. Supernatural and paranormal are in the teasing wives tales my mother loved to tell me, and at nearly twenty-seven years I'm too old to be fooled. We've all got our theories on whatever this Kira is, logical and otherwise. _Aren't you worried, then, going to the land where Kira resides? That L proved it you know!_I'll be sure not to murder anyone then, I think I'll be fine. Would you like some parmesan pastry bites?

I'd take Kira over a conversation with my mother though. _Has Madam Akane been informed of your big achievement, darling? _Yes, my mother called me earlier. She's currently in Spain with her boyfriend, working on her magazines. She's having great success, if you must know.

My mother, who blessed me with high cheekbones and symmetrical features, had a special way when it came to business. She fluttered her long eyelashes and hid behind a perfectly calm mask, hiding her sharp eyes and smirks behind a goofy grin and plenty rhetorical questions until she had a whole team of managers nodding their heads at her every whim. I had not inherited this gift, but got what I wanted with flaunting my attributes, having instead inherited the height and high chin of my American father who had yet to offer his congratulations. Possibly because I was modelling for a rival company of his, and he knew I didn't even wear perfume.

His wife did though. Perhaps I should send her some.

My riveting conversation with a journalist was interrupted with a familiar face, an old photographer friend with a pencil moustache he's desperately trying to bring back, and, what with his slicked pompadour, I wish him the best of luck. "Darling, how is your little friend doing all across the seas?"

I'll begrudgingly give him points for remembering. She is not little, she's a rising star, and "Her name is Misa Amane. But excellent, thank you."

Misa and I had been practically inseparable… until four months ago when she began her career in Osaka and I came here to fulfill a contract with a big designer label. Large red crosses in my calendar had been counting down the days for my return, though I knew it would be a busy one: I had a series of shoots lined up with some brands in several magazines, a television advert, including a catwalk or two for the spring show, oh-! And an interview.

Well, when you live off people looking at your face and knowing who you are, better play into it. Even if they were just going to stare at my bones and remind me that I'm hardly a healthy role model.

More importantly, however, I would get to see how Misa was doing making a career. I had been there to see her shoot for the magazine _Eighteen_. She had gotten herself a strict-bitch manager who was 'a real sweetheart really' (her words, not mine) and who secured her an official magazine double spread, modeling a small punk-lolita stores wears with an article about her being a rising starlet, but which was not to be scoffed at. She was admirable, though, she's a hard worker who deserves what she gets. None of my name-pulling, sweet-talking and sly introducing required; she doesn't need my help. She moved to Tokyo of her own accord in April.

She has a beautiful smile, exercises regularly, sticks with diligence to a good diet, takes a strong interest in fashion and media, oh-! And is a much more sociable, likable creature than I.

I needed some fresh air.

Squeak of the patio door. Rattle of the frames as it shuts. Stepping out onto the balcony of my shared apartment gave me peace from the thumping noise and grating chatter, greeting a few of my smoker friends with a smile and a murmur. There was an uncomfortable chill in the night air, causing everyone to shudder, but then it passed, like the wind from a birds wing. I sighed at my billboards expression, pastel colors shinning against the dark sky. Dark, although adverts either side and the still ongoing traffic lit up a city of the material in a comforting, settling way in that, in this busy street, you could keep your distance from the honking and the swearing and the foul attitude by hiding behind the great blinding lights.

You could slip into shadows if you really tried.

In spite of my success, New York perhaps lacked the charm that came with my mothers home city. I longed to return to Tokyo.

Tokyo is a city of wonders, but not the wonders you might think of. It is a collection of small cities which grouped together create the most populated city in the world. I have spent at least a third of my life there between the catwalks and the stages, the alleyways and the nightclubs, and will always discover something new every time I go. There will be a home or a business behind every corner, and when that is not the case it is because you are walking with a sea of bodies towards the brightest neon light in the sky on a carriage-wide road. Golden transit can take you any place you desire, however you and a thousand others will be packed sardines on a single shabby train until you reach your destination. Cower too quickly, and hop off, you may find yourself lost and at the mercy of the busy station until a kind stranger in a bright bonnet directs you back onto your path. Know the language, or be miserable without it.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Take a map, you will be fine. Visitors like to visit the major districts, Aoyama, Shinjuku, Harajuku, but you may go wherever you please in this city. If you know where to go, you can find a fair meal for a fair price, or a second hand book shop with a novella in perfect condition. Sometimes you may find yourself in a street utterly devoid of people – unusual, but do not panic; Tokyo is safe. Obey the rules and you will be fine.

Tokyo is a city of pleasure. Whatever you want, you will find in Tokyo. The best food may be expensive but is mouth-watering and the chefs that prepare the delicacies are licensed artists whose fugu will not poison you. The eager will try yakitori and relish in the spicy coal tints in the crackled skin which covers a moist and succulent flesh. And if that does not appeal to you, there are noodles on the street corner beside you, or you can dine on okonomiyaki in a restaurant four minutes away.

Electronics hang from the sky, and the greatest new developments in MP3 players, game consoles and cinema screens will keep you occupied and entertained. And if you're looking for anything in particular, try Akihabara and enjoy the views as you go. Everything comes with a price, and you must always pay it first.

The clothes, oh! The clothes, why, you will be lost in the arcade maze of the most elaborate and fantastic designs, a thousand different looks for a thousand difference faces, to find the outfit which calls out to you. You wear what you want in Tokyo, but we insist you wear something.

Tokyo is clean, and must remain that way. You must never litter the ground or hide the rubbish within the foliage, but you will bin it appropriately or take it home.

Tokyo is a city of light, but you must obey the rules.

Misa would always give me a cheeky grin when I told her this. "As if _you_ eat any yakitori!"

"_Misa_! That's beside the point. I'm talking about the city!"

"Sounds magical, Coco."

"You know it is."

"Hm… not until I see it." She would say.

I whipped the cigarette from my friend's mouth and held it to my lips to take a needed drag. Fuck, I said, although I didn't know why. Where had the stars gone? None in the sky; they walked on concrete pavements and were worshiped like idols. I was now one of them. Sort of. A rather _dull_ star.

They say that you ought to make a wish on the first star you see in the sky. If you wish something before a second star appears, it'll come true. _For best results_, says my mother, _wish upon a falling star_.  
>But they also say that throwing salt over your shoulder after spilling some will ward off the bad luck, and that bells will keep evil spirits away.<p>

"Are you coming inside, Naoko?" my friend asked. Inside, into the warmth, into the mass of expensive bodies in even pricier outfits, hot breath and sensitive hearts.

I asked for a minute, to finish the cigarette, to watch the smoke twirl into nothingness. I shouldn't have had that grape. I shouldn't have left Misa alone. My hands shake because I know I shouldn't have left her. Her hair was in bunches last time I saw her. What will she say to my new pixie cut?

It is May 26th 2004.

Sometimes they say if you stand on the edge of a ledge you deserve to fall off, for having done something so reckless in the first place. It's a bit of a cruel thought, if you ask me. What if you're pushed? Did you deserve to get pushed? And who wouldn't risk it for the spectacular views you can only find on the edge of life?

The spineless, I suppose. But who am I to talk.

I stayed out on the balcony, throwing the cigarette butt to the winds. It disappeared from my sight; it would land somewhere on the streets below my perch where it ceased to be my problem. Let someone else clean it up.

Square your shoulders. Harden your heart. Go back inside. With a final glance at the billboard, I laughed softly to myself and took shelter amongst the congregation in what was, for a time, my home.

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><p><strong>A.N- <strong>You can review anonymously, or pm me, if you wish. Thank you for reading!


	2. Arrival

**A.N-** When I was planning the chapters to this, I was reading the 7th manga again and noticed a lot about how Light reveals all the plot twists. In the spirit of things, I'll give it a go in this story. (Not to give spoilers away, but there are a few in this story. It won't follow canon completely.) I won't make them nearly as good, but they won't show up for a little while yet.

Helpful criticism is much loved.

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><p><strong>Forgotten Eden<strong>

My Japanese gets a little rusty whenever I've been away for a while. I didn't have either of my parents gift of languages, it seemed. I could get by, and that's all I really needed. Besides, I had traveled between airports all my life so if I didn't know my way through Tokyo's by now then it was a matter worthy of concern. In busier conditions than this too, Tokyo had dozens of flights every hour and yet the practically deserted deport side made me think my flight was the first to come through all day. Not that I minded or anything.

Once again it was like I was making a new start, almost like I was seventeen again, with my few possessions in my hand luggage, not a giant suitcase, and an address stored in my phone rather than on a scrap piece of paper this time. Misa's address. Misa got herself an apartment she described extensively in her emails… it sounded nice. But I was still afraid for her. Apartments were expensive, and small, and I hadn't been there to help her choose a good one. For all I knew, she might have unwittingly gotten herself to a load of debt. For all my glamorizing of the city, Tokyo was full of the same kinds of people as anywhere else.

People you had to watch without letting them know you were.

Unease is a terrible feeling, one I couldn't shake off at the moment my plane landed with an ungraceful bump on the runway. No, it was before I even left New York. I knew this place, both its day and night faces, and I shouldn't have felt seventeen again, sent off into the unknown at the mercy of a carnivorous city. How much can a city change in four months? How much can the world warp when you've been wrapped up in a tiny sphere only to catch glimpses of it all from tiny screens and the radio antenna if you angled it right, like the world outside didn't even exist and was entirely fictional. Who can judge anything by that? Was Japan _really _consumed and shaped with fear? From what I gathered, Kira had been reigning judgment and destruction on people, killing without hesitation via supernatural means.

Yes, people genuinely believed in that crap.

People will speculate over anything. You'd think a supernatural entity wouldn't distinguish between the saints and the sinners, people would die regardless. It makes more sense to assume this is just a nationwide scheme to get people to behave themselves and to discourage crime. If the kings, presidents, ministers and every emperor sat together to organize this, kudos to them, they did a fine job. I'll sit out and watch until it spirals out of control, the people revolt and demand real justice. People were dying after all.

The hush-hush side of me, you know, that side which contains your REAL thoughts you just know you're not suppose to say out loud, just sighs and reminds me that people die every day, and no, it's never fair, so quit your moping and get on with things until it's your turn.

First things first, check into a hotel. There will always been an odd bed spare somewhere in a city as vast as this. Money is no issue, I'm not a frivolous spender and I've been saving up for exactly this. Text Misa, just to let her know I arrived. I'm exhausted, so I'll need sleep, lots of sleep. Drink lots of water. Then, first thing in the morning: call Misa. Or at least leave a message and have her call me back. She'll probably be so busy though. Her emails got shorter and shorter because she was simply so tired by the time she got around to writing to me. She always apologized for this, no matter how many times I told her I understood. I was the same anyway, especially when I didn't even have evenings to myself because of some fancy party or show. At least we _were_ keeping in touch.

I wonder… I know I shouldn't… it's just a feeling… will she be happy to see me?

"Coco!" cried an unforgettable voice. I promptly dropped my hand luggage to the floor in order to properly hug my best friend, who flew into my arms with enough force to wind me!

"Misa!" I cried back, in that way women do, in a frequency only known to dogs. "Oh Misa, what a lovely surprise, you came to meet me!"

"Coco, Coco, what have you done to your hair!"

I burst into laughter, especially when she ran her hair through my scruffy pixie cut as though bewildered by it. Then again, last she saw, my hair was the same length of hers. Hers had grown, and mine had "got chopped off for the runway. But it'll grow back, never fear."

I hold her at arms length to do a swift check. Her hair is longer, that's for sure, and she seems taller, though it might be the ridiculous platforms she's wearing. (Safer than heels, though.) She's wearing a little makeup but nothing excessive so it looks pretty natural. I was half expecting her to go the full Goth, dyed hair and thick makeup everywhere, like the American girls do it. It suits them though… with Misa, you can't really be sure. She's gorgeous without it, and whilst her clothes are incredibly flattering to her small physic, it's like her head contrasts her body, like she doesn't know which look to go for. Yet she looks pretty healthy. She's not obviously gained or, thankfully, lost any weight since I last saw her.

No, I've just been away too long and not seen her properly. Her look is Lolita, not Goth. The most unnatural thing about her is the giant smile across her face. It must just be me, but when I left Misa all her smiles were either coaxed out of her, or forced so she didn't disappoint me. This time, though, she was just _beaming_.

"Shocking!" Misa shook her head. "You have such lovely dark hair. You shouldn't be cutting _any_ of it off!"

I don't; my hair is thin, dry and falling out from repetitive straightening, curling gelling, you name it my hair has seen it. It's just so pointless to try and reason with a comment like that, so I smile at the compliment, because it's nice of her to say, and we head out.

With my best friend by my side, I forget entirely whatever it was I had been concerned about. The night in Tokyo is something a visitor will find themselves enticed by, all the exotic lights and shapes which could fool you into thinking you've moved worlds, dimensions, and shadows were walls you would walk through and doors just opened for you. Lights, so many lights! We were passing through the world but not taking part in it, not tonight, for tonight was our night off. Any other night we could go out to all the clubs and all the bars and all the parks. Any other night we could come out, and I would show Misa all the places she hadn't been yet, places you needed an invitation in order to find. The safe ones, that is. There were some places I would never take Misa.

"I've just got to show you my place, come on!" Misa demanded, linking my arm in hers, and so I followed with breaths heavy in anticipation. _The moment of truth…_

Her apartment wasn't too shabby, actually. She'd had the sense of mind to choose a safe location with transport within accessible distance, so what did it matter what color the walls were?

"Misa does intend to paint it, you know." She said, giggling at me. Honey walls and brown carpet just struck me as a little odd, is all. Not her colors. Cozy, mind. Her kitchen was suitably sized and her lounge room contained a small dining table, two small chairs, a television in the corner and a couch positioned so that she'd still have a good view of outside through a decent sized window. She showed me her bedroom next, substantial, obviously, with a stool, desk and laptop in one corner, and… a shrine to her parents in the other.

I think my heart sank when I saw that, dropping like stones into an empty swimming pool, forced right into the pit of my stomach. She had candles either side of her favorite picture of them all together, two smiling adults with a pre-pubescent Misa between them, clutching their hands like swing ropes. I assume the more recent pictures were stored in the draws of the table it rested on, but I wasn't going to check.

She was still talking to me from the kitchen as she made drinks, not really paying attention, so I decided not to bring matters up. She's just… honoring their memory. If this is how she chooses to cope I'm not going to stop her.

When I closed her bedroom door she handed me a cup of coffee and touched it to her glass of wine in a toast gesture.

"Glad to have you here." She said. "I'll make us some supper if you're interested." Unable to argue with her, I followed her back into the kitchen to help. She gave me a chuffed glance, the type that manages to warm you right through, and began chatting.

"Misa spent almost a whole afternoon looking around these streets for soup ingredients since I know you won't eat much else. I will be super offended if you don't eat THIS though, this is Misa's specialty!"

Shit, I hope she didn't see me cringe. Her adopted third person habit had taken a bit of getting used to. Actually, I hated it. She sounded… bizarre, like an excited ten year old or something, and not like a twenty year old woman at all. Problem was, as much as I really wanted to put a stop to it, she only did it when she was happy or trying to put on a brave face. It was something she got from her only right thing to do was to go along with it, at least, for now.

Fucks sake, Naoko, her parents haven't been dead a _year_ yet. What was I damn expecting?

"Um…" oh think you stupid brain! "I can't wait, Misa."

"Misa is a great chef." She chuckled, "Oh, and Coco, it's all vegetables and water, so you don't need to worry about a thing."

No noodles in sight, as she promised. We sat side by side at her tiny table, the television off, filling any silence by slurping on soup, followed by childish giggling fits. "Soup's so good you got it all over your face, Coco!"

"Wouldn't have anything to do with you nudging me, would it?" So I nudged her back and she slopped it all down her chin.

It was so sweet of her to make soup with my allergies in mind. My diet was limited to some fruits and mostly vegetables now. I had a nasty feeling our conversation would steer towards diets or the like, something I really didn't want to think about. Ever. Misa just lead me to do things I wouldn't normally do. Like, eat. I didn't eat a great deal… at all, really. Not if I could help it. I don't, and I won't argue the matter. She tried to serve me a desert but I had to refuse at that point. Thankfully she didn't press the matter, and instead sat beside me, curled up on the couch, cushions out the way.

"Coco, do I have a lot to tell you!" and she was overjoyed. "I know I told you before, but did you hear? That murderer is dead!"

She didn't need names for me to know who she meant, and she had mentioned through an email the night it happened. Her parents' murderer had died in February. Heart attack, but Misa said "_Kira attack_!"

"Yes, you… you did say. You really think Kira did it?" I ask, realizing by the look of surprise on her face that I may have just said something stupid.

"Misa _knows_ Kira did it!" she punches the air like it's some kind of victory. "Keep up, Coco! I know you've been away a while, but you know who _Kira_ is, don't you?"

She says Kira like it's a name I ought to recognize, like hers, or some famous persons, or even a world known deity. "Yeah." I shrug. "We go for taiyaki, like, all the time. Nice guy… bit of a square though."

She slaps my arm playfully.

"Well if you do ever go out for taiyaki, make sure you thank him!" She grins from ear to ear. "I got something else to tell you, sis. Misa's got a boyfriend!"

"WHAT?"

She clutches her ears dramatically. "Chill out, Coco! You heard me just fine! Misa's got a boyfriend."

"WHEN-! Um, sorry… when did this happen?"

"Three days ago!"

That's… that's not too bad then. "And… you've known him for how long?"

"Three days."

That is bad then! I thought I told her _not _to date guys the same moment she meets them. She's not a thirteen year old girl safe in school; she's at an age where she could be dating total weirdos!

She can read my mind. She gives me a mischievous but challenging smile behind the fragmented wine glass. "You're not going to tell me that's bad, are you? Miss Takahashi?"

I splutter into my drink. Naoko, you tell that girl too much. Yes, she and several tabloids knew about my numerous exploits, and by that I mean I had no problem slipping into beds after evening and slipping out before morning. That was all in my past, long before I even met Misa. I had only told her about my past so that she was educated about relationships and sex and the like, so _should _she get herself a boyfriend, she would know what protective measures to take.

I had told the _tabloids_ because I would be damned if they were going to make my virtue some kind of aspiration for young women. _'Check out successful model Naoko! Her organs might be shutting down but she's no slag!' _

"No, Misa, I'm not. But please be careful. Some people can just be a bit odd, you know? Celebrities relationships never hold out, and you need be sure, if you're going to date a fan that he isn't a complete psychopath."

Her eyes glaze over darkly and she faces away from me, so I can't tell whenever she's gravely dismissed what I'm saying or whenever she's met such a fan and is remembering it. I have, many times, when I was younger than Misa is now. It can be quite scary.

"He isn't. He really isn't. Do you believe in love at first sight?" Misa asked, turning her head very suddenly so that it startled me, although not as much as the question itself. "Do you think you can just spot someone across the room, or a street, and just, you know, know they're for you?"

Soul mates? Misa, don't make me laugh. Such a romanticized, dramatized concept made off to be something… something…

Something _true_, I guess.

"No… not really, Misa." I shrug dismissively, "Surely it's not love until you can go on holiday together and not hate each other by the end of it."

She smiles at me, "Alright, be that way. You'll see when you find your own true love what I mean."

That's when I laugh because I know for sure that that's not going to happen. Ever. I'm beyond the hollow emptiness those words primarily bring so when I smile back at her, it is a fully, genuine, confident smile.

"I'd like to meet this young man then-! Oh, Misa, tell me he's not some old guy!"

She claps her hands, "Ha ha! No way! Misa wouldn't date some old guy. _Ew_ no."

We finally decided sleep was in order at around two in the morning. We had only made it up that late because Misa's cupboards were fully prepared with caffeine in several forms and we'd managed to drink our way through most of them.

Neither of us had qualms about sharing a bed- we'd done it dozens of times before. I stayed around her house often enough after we first met during my Osaka travels. I had met her parents properly through those nights I slept over, who entertained us with hot chocolate and marshmallows and made Misa talk about her day and what we'd been up to. They made us separate beds on the bedroom floor as though we were pretend campers, but we were still technically beside each other. We giggled about it the whole time.

And then…

After her parents death she was too distraught to sleep alone, so I spent many nights with her, and at first I made a bed on the floor beside her by the door so at least she might feel a bit better, but after she climbed in beside me one too many times, I decided to try and help her get some decent rest in a comfortable bed. She slept with her face pressed into my neck and would quietly cry herself to sleep.

I don't miss those months. I am terrible at comforting people since the only things I can think to say are the ones no one wants to hear. The best I could do was hold my tongue and just _be there_, yet I never felt it helped her.

I turned away so I had my back to her, but right before she says goodnight she slips an arm over me, as though she's the one comforting me this time. In a way she is. She knew I was nervous even if neither of us could place the reason why. Tomorrow I would find myself a good hotel to spend a few nights in and spend some time looking for a short term rent. Misa had offered to let me stay a few more nights with her, but I adamantly turned them down. This new found independence had been amazingly good for her, the last thing she needed on the brink of her career was my dead weight to take care of. I know I'm very controlling, and can be horribly bossy. I won't put her through it.

If she had needed me to stay, I would not have hesitated for a moment. Only she didn't seem to need me and there was a horrible twisting sensation in my heart. Like the feeling when you're standing on the edge of a steep drop and you're losing your balance, as though the slightest gust of wind could come at any moment and throw you over, and the uncertainty of not knowing when it was going to come, if you were going to fall.

It was Misa's arm holding me back.

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><p><strong>A.N- <strong>This chapter seems long enough, so I'll cut it here. I'm not great with dialogue so I expect there will be a few areas I could improve. If you have any feedback, please review! Thanks!


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